


Follow Me

by HGRising



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF
Genre: Aha, M/M, Tumblr, crack!fic, he changed his cover photo and i am not okay, mein hase, not yours, real life meets a fan girl, you can't tell me this didn't happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:43:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 15,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2364716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HGRising/pseuds/HGRising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Late night blogging with Lukas Podolski. And, various other short fics I will invariably write about schweinski that could maybe totally definitely happen and you can't tell me otherwise! These 'chapters' can be standalone or not, but they will follow what happens in real life. Consider them behind the scene scenes of what the papers print and the two decide to share.</p><p>... you came to the wrong crack!fic, motherduckers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I can’t even see the line anymore. Where is it? What is it? Did it even exist? No idea. I’m in too deep. 
> 
> Enjoy. I wrote this to cope with Poldi changing his facebook cover photo. What is life.

**Follow Me**

.

He’d have to remember to thank Per for showing him this later. And, then he’d have to thank Per for showing him how the tags worked. He had been following one in particular reilgiously. This was way better than Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram combined. Plus, a lot of the people here were really creative and funny. He wished he could hug each one.

He snickered as he scrolled past each post. He wondered how people even got some of these.

Seeing a lovely picture of the two of them, he clicked the heart to save it, thinking he couldn’t let _him_ see these or he’d never take another picture with him. And, that would be a tragedy for all those invested.

Suddenly, a hand reached out from behind the glow of the laptop and smacked him in the face.

“Ow.”

“Don’t be a baby. I thought I told you I didn’t want you on Facebook anymore.”

“I’m not on Facebook.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Just looking at some pictures.”

“Do it in the morning.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I want to finish looking through as much as I can tonight, so I can pick out my favorites for later.”

“What?” The covers shifted and a groan came from under them. “You’re not putting up any of those pictures again, are you? I told you I didn’t want to see them on your Facebook anymore.”

He rolled his eyes, knowing he was safe to do so in the dark. “No, dear.”

“And did you remember to change your cover photo?”

“ _Yes,_ mother. Anything else?”

“Don't be flippant with me. Just go to sleep. _N_ _ow_.”

“Of course, sweetheart. But… one last thing.” Idea in mind, Lukas swiftly pulled back the covers, revealing a disheveled and adorably pouty blond. He discreetly took a picture and followed up his actions with a kiss for distraction. “There. Goodnight,” he said, smiling sweetly.

“You’re fucking lucky you’re cute. I better not find that picture on Facebook.”

"You won't," he grinned mischievously in the dark.

The covers were pulled back down in a huff, and he had to stifle another laugh. Since these people were so nice to share so many pictures and kind words with him, he thought he should share one with them, too. As a sign of gratitude.

Cropping the picture to avoid violating the website’s possible policy on nudity (he wasn’t sure since he’d seen some questionable pictures amongst the others), he posted the picture to his account and tagged it #mein hase #not yours. And, because he couldn’t resist himself, #aha.

Shutting the laptop and setting it to the side, he wrenched the covers up to face his bunny. He kissed him on the nose, erasing his irritated expression, and snuggled against him with a sigh. It was good to be him.

.

_fromyouraverageigirl liked your photo_

_fromyouraveragegirl started following you_

_fromyouraveragegirl reblogged your photo and added:_

> _How did you get this? Did you hack into Sarah’s phone or something? WAIT. WAS IT POLDI’S PHONE?? It was, wasn’t it? Just. Ugh. You know what? I don’t care. BLESS YOU. /dead._

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: He’s one of us, now. Which means, welcome to the fold, darling!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was kind of written for schw3insk1 even though they didn't directly ask me for it. I just happened to see the request on my dash and thought. Why not. Sorry it’s not exactly what you wanted. Hope you enjoy it anyway. Written in the context of what happened with Poldi & instagram. /coughs. You know. Posted here because I know not everyone is on tumblr, and I wanted to share the schweinski wherever possible.

**On the Bench**

.

"Basti! Are you even watching the game?"

Bastian’s fingers kept busy, and he barely acknowledged his manager’s admonishment.

Moving closer, Pep asked, “What are you even doing?”

"Making a loom band bracelet."

"A what?"

"A bracelet."

"Why…?"

"Some of the kids taught me how. It’s pretty cool. They even showed me how to make patterns so it spells things, too."

"Again, why."

"I’m making one for Poldi."

"No offense, Basti. But, I don’t think Poldi’s going to want to wear _that_.” Under his breath, he muttered softly, “No matter how whipped he is.”

Bastian paused in his work before answering with narrowed eyes. “He will.”

"Uh-huh," Peering over his shoulder, Pep noticed the pattern Bastian was determined to make. "What’s WWBD even mean?"

"It stands for ‘What Would Basti Do?’"

"Fucking… Basti. _Why_.”

Again, he narrowed his eyes. But this time, he stared directly at Pep. “He knows why.”

"Forget it. I don’t care. Pay attention. Support your teammates."

Looking down at the almost finished bracelet in his hand, Bastian whispered to himself, “He should only be looking at my ass anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Truths.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Update, I have no life outside of these two. And that just explains so much about me. Inspired by rumors of Basti missing Oktoberfest because of ‘angina’ (like seriously, who came up with that).

**Chest Pains**

.

Bastian stared at the screen, transfixed. His mouth hung slightly open in disbelief and trepidation.

He was conflicted. He’d been praying that Lukas got more playing time, but to be subbed in for the last ten minutes, his heart physically ached for him. Bastian wanted to believe in Lukas’ skill and ability, but with only ten minutes, it was close to impossible.

Clutching at his chest, his anger came out in hot breaths as he watched him come onto the field, just happy to be able to get a chance to play for his team. To give them support. And, one thought rang clear in Bastian’s mind at that moment and forever after, and that was: _Fuck you, Wenger. Fuck you_.

He knew the reporters would tear Lukas to shreds for not being able to pull off a fucking miracle instead of focusing on Wenger’s mistakes like they always did. He had to endure so much with that beautiful smile—the smile that now mocked Bastian with its ubiquity—because if he didn’t, they’d call him out on that as well, and it just wasn’t fucking fair.

Bastian slammed his fists against the coffee table in frustration, making it shake and wobble, and leaned forward so he wouldn’t miss one moment. He’d support Lukas until the very bitter end.

But then, he blinked, and it was over.

His phone rang yet again, no doubt his teammates calling to check up on him, and he threw it across the room. He was in no mood to talk to them or think of another lie.

His heart threatened to beat out of his chest. The snide comments about Lukas were already coming through the television, but he kept it on. He wanted to remember each comment, each person who said it to hurt Lukas, so that he knew who to direct his hate towards because Lukas certainly wasn’t going to do it. More likely than not, Lukas was probably blaming himself right now, putting on a brave front with that fucking smile.

Going to the bedroom, he brought out a worn blanket and sat back on the couch, wrapping himself up in it. The familiarity of the texture and smell calmed him, turned the pain into more bearable dull twinges.

.

He opened the door to his London apartment and curiously heard noises coming from the television set. No one should have been there.

Stepping inside, he thought, _he_ especially shouldn’t have been there. But as it was, Bastian stood in front of him, engulfed by his blanket.

He let Bastian take him into his arms and wrap the blanket around them both, bringing him to his bed as he held him tight.

Protected from the world by the blanket but most importantly by Bastian, Lukas’ smile and every other pretense dropped, and that was okay because Bastian had dropped everything for him, too.

.

As he felt Lukas relax and eventually fall asleep in his arms, Bastian had no regrets. He was right where he wanted to be, and succumbing to Lukas’ rhythmic heart beats, he fell asleep alongside him.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Did you think it was going to be happy? Well, that just sucks for you because I can’t right now. It literally hurts to see Poldi on my dash right now, but I need to see him because I just do. Fuck. Go read SotU, it’s a looot happier. For now. /Ominous.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Check back in about half an hour or so or more for the rest. Currently watching the match and am crying over the lack of Poldi starting. I've got a busy life.

**Domestic**

.

> 1. _your otp picking out matching wedding bands_

Bastian picked up the one Lukas pointed to and stared at it uncertainly. "You sure you want _these?"_

Lukas took it from him and put it on him, admiring the way it looked. He kept his hands on his and ran his fingers over his knuckles adoringly. "You're the one who said you didn't want people to notice. Who would notice these on us?"

"Uh..."

Bastian had to admit Lukas had a point. He didn't think it was very traditional, and it definitely wasn't what he meant. But, it felt right. Taking a matching one for Lukas, they walked hand in hand to the register.

Calling over the clerk, he raised his wrist and asked, "Can we get these two please?"

The clerk smiled at the two of them oddly before saying, "Of course. Your total is twenty dollars and four cents. Would you like a bag for that?"

"No, I'm going to wear it now," Lukas said with his usual dazzling smile.

Lukas whispered to Bastian, "You think we should get them monogrammed, too?"

He lifted their clasped hands and slowly fit the sweatband onto Lukas' wrist and shrugged.

"Why not?"

.

> 2\. _your otp arguing over potential baby names_

"Yes."

_"No."_

"Then no sex."

"Damn it, Luki. We can't name the baby 'Schweinski.'"

"Why not? Everyone's going to be calling him 'Baby Schweinski' anyway."

"We can't."

"Then Podolsteiger."

"Why do you hate our children? No."

"Girolski."

"Get out. Wait no. You stay here and stay away from him."

.

> 3\. _your otp grumbling about getting up early to walk the dog_

"I can hear him outside the door. I think he wants to go out."

Lukas turned over to face Bastian, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "So do something about it."

Kissing him on his nose in morning greeting, Bastian told him, "You do something about it. It's your turn."

"No, it's your turn."

"We both know it's not."

"Well, it's your fault he's here."

"Jogi told _both of us_ to keep him until the next game."

"He only said so cause you're captain."

"He said so because he _knows_ he likes you the most."

From the other side of the door, Julian called out, "Hey guys? Poldi? Are you guys up yet? I heard whispering. You promised we'd all go for a run in the morning. Can we go now? Poldi??"

.

> 4\. _your otp playfully hip-checking each other while making dinner_

"Every time... Luki, stop. Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop. Luki, Luki, please. Stop. I'm going to drop it."

Grabbing the wooden spoon from him, Lukas hip checked Bastian as hard as he could, causing him to knock over the salad bowl as he scrambled to find something to hold onto.

Unamused, Bastian stated, "Yellow card. You're not helping me make dinner every again."

"But I love watching you cook. You're so focused, like when you play. It's sexy."

Throwing his hands up in exasperation, Bastian told him, "Red card."

"Come here, I can show you aggressive," Lukas teased, pulling him towards their bedroom by his apron strings.

.

> _5\. your otp being domestic cuties_

Lukas sat half in Bastian's lap on the sidelines as they pointed to colors in the magazine that he might like for their bedroom. All the while, Bastian listened as intently as he could be when someone was talking to him about the difference between floral white and seashell white. He knew they shouldn't have decided to start remodeling their house in the middle of the season.

Nudging Lukas to quiet him, he pointed towards the referee who was jogging towards them.

"Uh, hey guys. The match is about to start again. You guys wanna...," the referee trailed off.

"Want to what?'

Scratching the back of his neck, he suggested, "Go back to your teams?"

The two exchanged a glance. Then Bastian responded, "Fine. See you on the other side, Luki."

"No mercy, mein hase."

They each jogged to the opposite sides of the field.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is late. I don't care. Poldi. That game. I'm going to go lay down.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Have some fluff.

**By Order of the First Lady**

.

“I don’t care. I don’t care. I’m playing.”

Jogi pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and sat down on the bench in the middle of the locker room. He knew he shouldn’t have expected Basti to stay still while his team was struggling to find their footing. He especially shouldn’t have picked up the phone himself.

Speaking as clearly as he could, he said, “Basti, you need to just focus on getting better. I hear therapy’s going better than expected?”

Bastian grumbled. “The soonest they said they’ll clear me is the end of this year. But I know my body, Jogi! I’m fine. Knee’s good as new. I can handle it. Please, for the love of God just put me in for at least the first half?”

“No, Basti.”

“I’m the captain!”

“No.”

“The team needs me.”

“I’m not going to disagree with that,” he bit his tongue to keep more words from spilling. “But, the team needs you to get better, too, and we’ll deal with everything that comes after _then_. Not now. Focus on getting better. _Maybe_ you’ll get to start in the friendly with Spain.”

“I’m better now. Really,” he insisted. “I’ll come to training next time and show you!”

“No,” he said firmly.

“But, you’re not being fair.”

“I’ve told you why I can’t many times already, Basti.”

“But, you’re not listening to me.”

“You’re not listening to _me_. Honestly, it’s like talking to a wall.”

“I’m showing up anyway.”

“Basti…”

“You can’t stop me. I’ll just book my own stuff. Luki’ll tell me where you guys go.”

“Basti,” he snapped. “You’re acting like a child.”

“I’m not a child!! I—”

The phone was suddenly yanked from Jogi’s hand. Behind him, Lukas stood fresh from his shower, holding his phone in one hand and keeping his towel firmly secured around his waist with the other.

“You’re not coming back,” Lukas said authoritatively.

“What? Luki? Why are you—”

Even from a foot away, Jogi could hear Bastian’s loud (read: whiny) protests.

“You’re not coming back.”

“But—”

“You’re not.”

“Please, Luki. You guys need me.”

“You can come back when the doctors say you can.”

“That’s not until the end of the year probably. That’s forever.”

“We can handle things until you come back.”

“Luki, please?”

“No.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“Yes, I can.”

“No, you can’t. You’re not the boss of me.”

At that, Jogi watched as Lukas chuckled into his phone, “Yes, I can. And, yes I am.”

“I’m _your_ captain, you know.”

“I know. And that makes me the First Lady. And by order of the first lady, you’re keeping your ass at home until the doctors clear you. Alright?”

“Ah, fine!”

More tenderly now, Lukas explained, “It’s for your own good, Basti. I don’t want you hurt again… You know how scared I was.”

“I know…,” he conceded.

“I’ll be home in a few hours. Wait for me?”

“Okay,” he said again.

“I love you, mein hase.”

“I love you, too, Luki.”

Jogi was sure his captain was pouting like an absolute kid and shook his head. These two idiots.

Ending the call, he returned the phone to Jogi.

“By order of the First Lady,” Jogi deadpanned.

“By order of the First Lady,” Lukas repeated again, grinning and heading to his locker to get dressed.

“Fucking children.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Rude motherfluffers with their motherfluffing last minute goal. Fluff themselves. /humph. :(


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am too deep into this ship to function, I swear.

**Spoiled**

.

Turning over in his sleep, Lukas reached out to find nothing there.

He sat up and rubbed at his eyes. Their bedside clock showed that it was already past three. Grumbling, he stood up, making his way towards the soft glow of light from beyond the door.

His footsteps were muffled against the floor, but they sounded thunderous in the night. More slowly, he padded down the hall and to the living room couch, finding exactly what he expected to see. Taking one look at the television screen, he shook his head. He was still falling asleep to the recordings of the World Cup.

He’d regret sleeping on the couch in the morning.

Kneeling down, Lukas softly shook Bastian to wake him. Getting no response, he tried poking him, tickling him, and even kissing him to no avail. Finally, he whispered in his ear, “And _Argentina_ wins the 2014 World Cup _._ ”

Lukas watched as Bastian’s face turned sour. A grimace marred his normally angelic pout.

Chuckling, he couldn’t help teasing him some more.

Again, he whispered, “Messi just scored the winning goal. _Argentina beats Germany, one to nil. Argentina wins._ ”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Bastian shot upright yelling, “No!” Realizing it was only a dream and Lukas messing with him, he breathed a sigh of relief and glared at Lukas, “I told you to stop doing that.”

He smiled at Bastian, showing no remorse. “Come on, Basti. You need to get to bed.”

Flopping back down onto the couch, Bastian crossed his arms and replied, “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I'm injured. You have to carry me,” he said with a huff.

“Coming from the man who ranted about being healthy a few days ago just so that Jogi would put him in the match lineup?”

“I _was_ healthy. But now, I’m not.”

“So, you really want me to carry you.”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“All the way to our bed?”

“Yes.”

“And I guess you’re not coming to bed otherwise?”

“Yes.”

“You realize how ridiculous you’re being?”

“Ye—no…”

Lukas sighed dramatically and stood up, pretending to leave Bastian on the couch for the rest of the night.

Just when his back was turned, he felt a tug on his shirt.

Turning around, he caught the adorably sullen tremble on Bastian’s lips and wide eyes and couldn’t help but immediately give in. It wasn’t like he was really going to leave Bastian on the couch. He didn’t have to pull out the heavy artillery on him like that. It was unfair.

Sighing again, he hooked one arm under Bastian’s legs and the other around his middle. All the while, Bastian grinned deviously. It really worked every time.

“I spoil you, you know.”

“Could be worse.”

“How?”

“I could have you do this in front of the guys.”

“How is that worse for me?”

“They’d see how whipped you are.”

“I can still drop you,” he said as he carried him to their room.

Bastian buried his head into Lukas’ neck and nuzzled the warm skin there, sighing contently. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Kicking the door to their room open, he heard another open behind him and froze. He felt Bastian stiffen against him as well.

A small voice asked, “Daddy? What are you doing? Is that Uncle Basti?”

Crap, he flinched inwardly. He’d forgotten that Louis was spending the weekend with him.

“Uh…” Bastian stuttered.

“How come you’re carrying Uncle Basti?”

“Uh…” Lukas was too sleepy to answer and explain properly.

“I knew it! You lied to me and mommy.”

Panicking, he exclaimed, “What? No. I told you me and Uncle Basti were together now. I—”

“No, you liar! Daddy’s a liar. You said I was too big to carry. Uncle Basti’s even bigger. This isn’t fair! Daddy, you liar,” he accused. “I hate you.” Retreating back to his room, he slammed the door closed.

A tell tale click of the lock reverberated throughout the house.

“What?? No, Louis!” Looking at the closed door, he glanced down at the minimally sheepish Bastian. Walking over to their bed, he carelessly tossed him down onto the many blankets. “This is all your fault.”

Stretching out with feline grace, Bastian made himself comfortable on their bed.

“Poor, Luki,” he mocked. Smirking at him, Bastian offered, “Would _Germany_ feel better if I let _them_ score this time?”

"Germany is willing to consider it."

 .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Seriously, guys. /sighs. You have to at least be bored of me by now.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For robotunicorncastiel.  
> Request: Schweinski/German NT + video games. (preferably not FIFA, for variety.)

**Strategy**

.

A/N: Sorry it’s not reaaaallly what you wanted. I couldn’t fit in the team properly, so they made it awks. I also have a love/hate relationship with video games right now. I love them, but I hate that nothing comes to mind right now other than Pokemon and Mariokart. Oh wait. Heh heh heh. Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VDBpQVhCMb8) for the sound track for this song. Not necessary, but it’s pretty cute haha. It’s the song they sing at the end. It’s also the reason why Bastian insists on playing as Toad and Lukas as Princess Peach and should explain some other things, too. Heh.

.

“Practice is dismissed for the day. Everyone get some rest and relax. However, I’d like to repeat that curfew is at 8pm tonight, and anyone I catch out after curfew _or misbehaving_ will be on equipment duty for the rest of the year. That is all.”

The team dispersed while Lukas mouthed to Bastian ‘Curfew?’ who responded with a shrug.

Jogi was really putting his foot down with the rules, but he couldn’t really blame him with last night’s debacle with the inter-room pillow fight. He still remained convinced that it was Jogi’s fault, though. He knew he was within the game boundaries and was warned many times. He should’ve _at least_ armed himself or brought a blanket for protection or something.

“Game night’s still on, right?” He whispered to Bastian.

Waiting until Jogi was out of earshot, he answered, “Yep. But Christoph’s coming, too, now.”

“Why’s Christoph coming?”

“Manu told him about it”—he rolled his eyes—“so we’re probably going to end up playing MarioKart.”

Lukas kicked at the grass in frustration. Thinlipped, he replied, “Great. I guess I’ll just set up the Wii.”

Bastian chuckled at him deviously. He was going to enjoy tonight.

.

Sneakily heading over to Lukas’ room, Christoph followed Manuel who was up ahead with Thomas. From his position, neither Manuel nor Thomas saw the petulant pout on his face. When Manuel told him that Bastian and Lukas were having a game night, he thought it’d be a more private affair.

They stopped suddenly, and he bumped in Manuel who caught him. He smiled gratefully at his savior.

“You alright?”

He felt himself grin foolishly and scolded himself. He needed to control himself better, honestly.

Standing at the door, Thomas knocked on the door in an elaborate manner, leaving Christoph in awe. There was more to this sneaking around thing than he thought.

“The fuck are you doing, Thomas? Get your ass in here before Jogi hears you,” Lukas ordered, grabbing Thomas by his collar and pulling him in less than carefully.

Or not, and Thomas was just messing around as usual, Christoph concluded.

Surprised, Thomas could only get out half a word, “Wha—”

Christoph hesitated at the door. Lukas sounded agitated, a far cry from his usual demeanor. He thought it was because he was tagging along and was intruding. Perhaps he didn’t deserve to hang out with the older players, and they were too polite to tell him otherwise.

But then, as if he seemed to sense his tribulation, Manuel looked at him and gave him a half smile. He was hooked.

Almost giddily, he walked into Lukas’ room but soon bumped into Manuel once more. He rubbed his tender nose, wondering why Manuel stopped so suddenly. Looking around him, he saw even more people than he expected, practically half team. He was somewhat hurt he wasn’t invited before

“Hey! Christoph’s here,” Mats remarked from beside Erik. “Welcome.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he stared openly at the two. Erik was just as young as him. Younger even. It wasn’t fair.

However, he was soon distracted from his thoughts again by Manuel offering him a seat beside him, and he took it eagerly.

Bastian bounded over from across the room and handed them both Wii controllers.

He asked, “What’re we playing?”

Smirking, Bastian replied, “MarioKart.”

“No,” Manuel said emphatically.

In the background, Christoph heard similarly negative exclamations.

“We have to,” he told him. There was a hint of smugness in his voice that Christoph didn’t quite understand. “There’s too many people to play anything else.”

“Then I’m not playing.”

“You’d leave Christoph to fend for himself? Who knows what might happen?”

“What do you mean fend for myself? What’s going to happen? It’s just MarioKart…right?”

Looking back at him, he sighed, “It’s MarioKart but… it’s—”

“Hurry up and pick your players. I got Toad, and Poldi’s Princess Peach.”

Manuel slouched lower in his seat and groaned as Bastian returned to his seat. “Of _course_.”

“Hey, I’m not happy about it either,” Lukas called out, carelessly waving his controller around. “You think I want to be a fucking princess?”

“I think you like it when I treat you like a princess,” he teased. He went in for a kiss, but Lukas grumpily shoved him away.

He glared at Bastian. “I don’t think I was talking to you.”

“But—”

“No,” he said, shooting him down. He crossed him arms over his chest and stared straight ahead, looking anywhere but at Bastian. Meanwhile, Bastian looked at him pleadingly, trying to get his attention again.

“Did you want to be Princess Peach, Manu?” Christoph asked innocently.

“I just… it’s just… Basti doesn’t play the game right,” he said in exasperation.

Suddenly they heard a door slam, and the once full room now only contained Bastian, Lukas, Manuel, and himself.

Finally giving up on getting Lukas to pay attention to him, Bastian shrugged and stated, “Their loss.”

Tossing down the controller, Manuel remarked, “Well, now we can play something else.”

He brushed off his suggestion. “Nope. We’re still playing. It’s already set up.”

Lukas agreed with Manuel and begged, “Let’s play something else, Basti.”

He was happy Lukas was acknowledging him again after a mere minute of neglect, but he was still adamant. “No way! We never get to play MarioKart.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“I don’t get why you don’t like it. You always win.”

“There’s a reason for _that_.”

Urgently, Manuel shoved him gently and whispered, “Quick, go while they’re distracted. Go, go.”

“What?” He asked, confused but still obedient. Stumbling a little, he got up and scampered towards the door with Manuel following right behind him. “Why’d everyone leave? Why’d we leave?”

“So many reasons,” Manuel declared, closing the door.

“I don’t get it. What’s wrong with playing MarioKart…?”

“It’s just them. Or, Basti anyway.”

“Basti?”

“How much time do you have?”

“As much as you want,” he said, more honest in that moment than he’d ever been in his entire life.

Manuel looked at him in amusement, his lips quirking into a smile. “Come on. We shouldn’t hang out in the halls in case Jogi checks up on us. Wanna hang out in my room?”

Eyes wide, he stuttered, not believing his good fortune, “Of course.”

Things were looking up for him.

.

“See? You chased them all off.”

Bastian admitted, “It was a calculated plan.”

“What?”

“Didn’t really feel like game night tonight,” he explained, chuckling in self satisfaction.

“What are you—” he began, before it dawned on him, and he realized. That cunning bastard.

“Come on. It’s not like you wanted to deal with them either.”

He didn’t. Not really, anyway. But, he’d die before he let Bastian know that. Gripping his controller, he announced, “Fuck it. Let’s play.”

Shocked, he asked, “Really?”

“Yep.”

“You know I’m still going to let you win.”

“No, you won’t _let_ me win. You’re going to play seriously for once.”

“And, why’s that? Are you going to make another order, my lady?”

His eye twitched but he suppressed his grin upon hearing Bastian call him by his unofficial title. “ _Because_ if you win, _then_ we can stop playing.”

“And do what?”

Lukas gave him a pointed look in response.

Immediately, Bastian’s posture changed, and he adopted a more aggressive stance, leaning forward in readiness. “You’re going down, my lady.”

He, too, learned forward. “Maybe if you win, mein hase. Maybe.”

Bastian chose Rainbow Road for their race and began to hum and sing in a hushed tone, “You be my princess, and I’ll be your toad. I’ll follow behind you on rainbow road. Protect you from red shells whenever we go I promise…”

Shaking his head fondly at _his_ dork, Lukas joined in, “… No one will touch us if we pick up a star...”

A few verses later, Lukas sighed and paused the game. He nudged Bastian’s thigh with his own. He nudged him back.

“This is why no one wants to play with us.”

“So?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to point that out. Come on. Game night’s officially over.”

Without hesitation, Bastian lifted him in his arms. He carried him over to the bed, humming the rest of the song.

“I guess I win again.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry if you guys don’t play MarioKart! :O I would’ve made this fluffier, but I’m half dreading/half excited about all the games tomorrow, and I didn’t want to be fluffed out just in case.


	8. Chapter 8

**Fire Escape**

.

A/N: Arsenal’s playing tomorrow. There will be tears and ugly sobbing. Guaranteed. Win or lose. But hopefully win. Because !!! Inspired by [this](http://bastianschwienstieger.tumblr.com/post/100635638802/iggycat-someone-needs-to-write-a-the-fire) tumblr post. Preface for this story: Picture them any time when they were young, fun, flirty, and stupid. So just pretty much any time from the past ten or so years.

Prompt: Someone needs to write a ‘the fire alarm went off at 3 am and now the cute guy from the flat next door is standing next to me in his underwear’ AU

I never do prompts properly. I sars.

.

Small, white stars burst from the corners of his vision, and he shut them tightly.

Lukas felt like he was flying.

He would thank God for the lithe body that weighed him down, but he was almost certain it was sacrilegious to include God in what they were doing.

His cries were lost in the cacophony of noises from the grunting and swearing of his partner to the slamming of the headboard of the hotel bed against the wall.

Louder and louder, the banging sounded, losing its rhythm but gaining fervor.

Then, as he felt himself reach his peak, a shrill screech rang through the air.

“Basti,” he gasped, eyes wrenched open in shock.

Coming to his senses, he sat up in his bed. Slowly, he picked out the fire alarm, the pounding at his door, and a more than familiar voice.

“Poldi! Open up! Are you alright?”

Throwing his covers off, he cleared his throat and called out, “Yeah!”

“We need to get downstairs!”

Quickly, he scrambled to clean up the mess he’d made because if he was going to die in a fire, he’d make sure he died with dignity.

“Poldi!” Basti called again, knocking at his door again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah!” He shouted back, haphazardly changing into sweat pants. “I’ll be down in a minute. Go without me!”

“What—Just get out here already!”

“Go without me!”

“What are you doing in there?”

“Nothing!” He said, slightly out of breath as he pulled the door open. “I told you to go down without me.”

Bastian had his hand poised to wrap against the door again but stopped when he caught sight of Lukas. Not inconspicuously, Bastian looked him over from head to toe, and he wished there was a way to casually put on a shirt without Bastian making a big deal about him being embarrassed.

Finally, a grin spread over his face, and he asked, “What, no tighty whiteys this time?”

“Shut up,” Lukas mumbled, refusing to let himself be affected, especially not after a few minute ago.

Throwing his arm over Lukas shoulder and leading him towards the stairs, Bastian said, “Come on. The others are already outside.”

His skin broke out in goose flesh where Bastian touched him, and he trailed behind Bastian slightly as they tread down the stairs. Yawning, he let his eyes wander down Bastian’s broad back, trying to forget or perhaps trying to recall the patterns his nails made against his skin in his dream. Tracing along his low slung shorts—why did he always insist on cutting _all_ of his pants?—, he bumped into Bastian, not realizing he had stopped, and they were already outside.

He spotted their team mixed in with a few workers and other guests, but Bastian led him towards a bench.

There was more than enough room for them to sit comfortably without touching, but Bastian chose to sit in the middle, and he was too tired to argue. Instead, he let his head drop onto Bastian’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He could just imagine how everyone would feel when they started practice in a few hours. He was already finding his own usual good temperament strained, but that was an entirely different issue.

A half hour later, they were cleared to go back inside. Apparently, someone had burned some popcorn in the microwave, and he and everyone else on the team automatically glanced at Thomas when the announcement was made. Despite his protests, he still received more than a few cuffs on the back of his head as well as promises for retribution.

.

Outside their rooms, a pale hand closed around his own.

“I forgot my key,” Bastian explained with the grin he had when he first opened the door.

“So get one from the front desk.”

He was too tired, and staying in Bastian’s presence brought forward too many conflicting emotions, all of them revolving around things he shouldn’t be feeling for his best friend.

With his lower lip in a pout, he whined, “I’m tired.”

“There’s only one bed,” he tried, but he didn’t sound convincing even to his own ears.

Wordlessly, Bastian slipped past him and made his way to his bed, promptly collapsing on it and wrapping himself up in _his_ blanket.

Pulling up a corner in invitation, Bastian asked, “Coming to bed?”

Lukas tried not to remember what he’d done in the bed a short hour ago, he really did, but he didn’t think he’d be able to look Bastian in the eyes for a long time.

Still, sighing in surrender, Lukas walked over to his bed and climbed in beside Bastian.

There were worst ways to spend his night, and if something other than sleeping happened, then so be it.

.

When Bastian woke up, he made a mental note to dispose of all the evidence of having possessed any microwaveable popcorn bags in his room. But, there would be time for that later. All he wanted to do at that moment was focus on snuggling up against Lukas’ nude form for as long as possible.

Really, it was Lukas’ fault for making all those naughty sounds anyway. He could hear _everything_ from his room.

But, that may have been because he had his ear pressed up against the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The fire alarm went off so many times when I was dorming. No joke. One of the times was seriously because someone (people?) couldn’t get their ish together and overmicrowaved (???) popcorn. At two in the morning. What even.


	9. Let Them Eat Birthday Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Aka, happy fluffing birthday, Wenger. I hope you’re rethinking your entire liiiiife. I’m so lucky to have friends who indulge me when I want to fangirl about football. D; I mean, they were laughing as I was being hysterical about today but gahaajw;ejfw;jfjf;ajfe. All y’all need to move to where I live so we can talk all this. Enjoy!!! D; /more ugly sobbing. Today is just so freaking amazing.... and then I got my quiz back. Whoops. ); /ugly sobbing.

**Let Them Eat Birthday Cake**

.

An hour before the start of the match, Bastian was disappointed Lukas wasn’t starting, but he wasn’t surprised. He’d been messaging Lukas since his morning training session and now offered his love and support, but he doubted his words reached him. Still, it didn’t stop him from trying when Lukas was obviously hurting.

Bastian ran his hand through his hair in frustration. The start of his training sessions had meant that he couldn’t fly out to watch Lukas play anymore. He told Lukas as much before he started, and Lukas understood, but it didn’t take away the sadness in his eyes.

Lukas had also admonished him for perhaps starting his therapy too early and pushing himself too hard too soon, but Bastian maintained that it was for his sake. He couldn’t bear not being there for him anymore during international break.

Eventually, both teams took to the pitch, and Bastian settled in to watch. The anthems filled the stadium and Bastian’s room with its fanfare. He had sequestered himself in his bedroom, committed to complete privacy despite already living alone. Seeing the lineup without Lukas, he briefly got out of bed to grab himself some adult refreshments before wrapping himself up in the blanket again, imagining that Lukas’ scent was still there from the last time he had visited.

By halftime, he was, once again, disappointed but not surprised. Despite being the favorites to win, Arsenal hadn’t scored once, but thankfully neither had Anderlecht. He finished another bottle in between the break, adding to his count. He put special care into crafting his replies to Lukas, making sure Lukas wouldn’t be able to gauge just how much alcohol he’d consumed. Lukas was trying to get him to cut back, and he’d never hear the end of it.

With each passing shot that missed the back of the net, Bastian felt himself slipping further and further. He raised his third bottle to the screen, thinking that the game was going to end in a tie with neither team scoring

He choked on the fourth bottle in the seventy first minute when Anderlecht scored and decided to switch to the hard liquor. Shortly after, Lukas had gone quiet and stopped messaging him. There could be so many reasons for his silence, and Bastian was almost afraid to find out why.

By the seventy fifth minute when Oxlade-Chamberlain and Campbell were subbed in instead of Lukas like he had feared, Bastian was in near hysterics, cursing at his television screen.

By the eighty second minute, when Wenger had finally allowed Lukas to come on, Bastian was screaming for the blood. They were still down one to _nothing_. But, as soon as Lukas stepped on the field, the pace had changed it seemed in Arsenal’s favor, and he prayed. And, he hoped his teammates had remembered to pray for Lukas like he’d threatened them to, too.

When Gibbs tied it up in the eighty ninth minute, Bastian was on his knees and at the edge of his bed praying, blanket wrapped tight around him. His eyes were glued to the screen.

He couldn’t move.

A minute later, he couldn’t stop.

He shouted, he jumped on his bed, and he drank some more of what he didn't spill. There may have even been a bit of manly crying.

When he calmed down marginally and the jumping made him nauseated, he dropped back to his bed and grabbed his phone to mass text his teammates in Rome.

‘HE SCORD’

‘WY RNT YU GYS HRE??’

‘HTERS TO TEH LEFT’

‘:DDDD byyyeeeee htrs’

‘luki scrd nd nuthin huuuurts.’

‘isthe poop wth you’

‘tell hm to com over so poldi cn bless him’

‘in the name the further the sun nd the hly poldi amen’

‘in pod we trrrrst’

‘HE RLY SCORDD’

‘tht usully mens i get to scr twoooo ;DDDDDDD’

‘ayy’

‘get it’

‘???????????’

‘;))))’

After waiting three minutes and getting no responses, Bastian rolled over onto his stomach and scrolled down his list. He pressed ‘call’ when he found ‘Wanker.’

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Lukas fucking Podolski’s left foot!! Fuck off, WANKER. Byeee.”

Cackling, he ended the call. Not knowing what else to do with himself, he redialed ‘Wanker’ again, only laughing into his phone because he was speechless.

Lukas had scored. On Wenger’s birthday. The universe _did_ have a sense of humor, and it was glorious.

Around the fifth time he tried calling Wenger, he found that his number was blocked. He was about to toss his phone when he figured he might as well call the team to see how they were doing.

When Dante picked up, he faintly heard him call out, “It’s Basti. No shit he’s drunk. Who wants to deal with him? Any takers? No? Fine.” A moment and a sigh later, he heard more clearly, “Hey, Basti. What’s up?”

Bastian was too happy to care that his teammates were being mean. Shouting into his phone to spite them, he proclaimed with a slur, “Luki scored!”

“We heard,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “So, why’re you calling us? Did Poldi get tired of your drunk ass already?”

“Oh, crap.”

“Basti?”

Eyes wide, he promptly hung up, realizing his horrible mistake.

“Fuck. Crap, crap, crap,” he repeated as he tried to call Lukas, but his phone buzzed unexpectedly in his hand, and he rejected it in annoyance.

Again, there was another call just as he was about to press ‘call’ for Lukas.

By the third interruption, he angrily accepted the call and yelled, “Fuck off! I don’t have time for you!”

“Well, you better make time, mein hase. I don’t see anyone else who can put up with you when you’re drunk. You are drunk, aren’t you? Because if this is you sober…”

He dropped his phone in surprise upon hearing the familiar voice and dove for it, creating a tangled mess of limbs and blankets.

“Luki! I love you, please don’t leave me,” he said finally as he found his phone.

“Definitely drunk then.”

“Please don’t leave me. Think of our penguin. Please think of our penguin.”

With a stifled chuckle, Lukas said, “Poldi and I are so disappointed in you.”

“It’s okay. You both love me anyway… right?”

“Yeah,” Lukas agreed in fond exasperation. “We love you.”

Grinning into his phone, he ventured, “So… do I get to score, too, then or what?”

“Does that line ever work?”

“Sometimes…”

“Well, maybe I’d consider it if you were actually here," he joked.

Immediately, Bastian saw his chance and rolled out of bed with a thud, stumbling towards his keys and wallet as he found the door with a stupid grin on his face.

Concerned, Lukas asked, “What was that?”

“I’ll see you in a few hours," he stated, already out the door.

“What? Wait, Basti, I was joking.”

“Nope, no take backs. See you soon.”

“Are you serious? Don’t you have to be in therapy tomorrow?”

“Yep. Yep. So I better make it worth it, right?”

“Stay home, Basti. You’re drunk!”

“That’s never stopped me before. Get the bed ready. Your captain is coming.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Or, he will be anyway. Wink. Sorry, I don’t know how people drunk text. Cause I’m classy... ???? Also !!!! ? I’m still not over it. Eeeeek. Lukas Podolski! He scores when he wants. This applies to both goals as well as Basti but not really because Basti scores when he wants, too. Sorry you have to deal with me when I’m like this. Byyyeeee.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For worriedducks. Hope this makes your week a little bit brighter. Also, a little bit for unamerican-american because it just worked out that way?? Unedited because I have grownup things to do, goshdarnit. They’re killing me. (But, what a way to go.)

**Pillow Talk**

.

Manuel and Christoph came back to their hotel having just finished a night run. As they walked down the hall sharing headphones and enjoying Christoph’s music playlist, a lone figure low to the ground skittered across the floor from one room to the next.

Suddenly, a pillow gracefully flew in an arc through the air from one of the rooms followed by two, three more.

Christoph ducked and asked, “What’s going on?”

Earbuds hung limp from the player, and Manuel, looking both annoyed and perplexed, answered, “Nothing good, I’m sure. Come on.”

Manuel pushed Christoph towards the wall and motioned for him to keep himself flat against it. When a hunched figure tried to scramble from the same room as the offending pillow, Manuel used his superior reflexes and grabbed them.

Lifting them up to meet him, he demanded, “Explain.”

Matthias looked incredibly uncomfortable in Manuel’s hold and squirmed to get away, unable to meet the keeper’s eyes. “Uh…”

“Explain,” he repeated.

Matthias looked to Christoph for help, but Christoph had adopted a stance similar to Manuel’s, odd as it was on him. Sighing as he wished he weren’t the one to have to do it, Matthias spoke quickly, “Mom and Dad are fighting, and then everyone started picking sides, and I don’t know. It all happened so fast. I just want to find Erik. Have you seen him??”

All at once Manuel felt guilty and let him go.

From beside them, Christoph asked, “Mom and Dad?”

“Basti and the First—uh... Poldi,” Matthias said, blushing. Erik had told him many times already that Thomas was just joking, but it had become a habit at this point.

“What are they fighting about now?”

“I don’t know. But, Mats said Per said Basti hurt the F—gah, Poldi’s feelings and wouldn’t take it back, so…”

“So you guys decided to handle it with a pillow fight,” Manuel finished for him.

“Thomas said it was a good idea.”

Manuel wasn’t even surprised. “Of course.”

“Who’s on whose side?”

Fidgeting where he stood, Matthias slowly listed, “Jules, Kevin, Per, Mesut, and Benni are on Poldi’s side. Oh yeah, Mario’s on Poldi’s side too. And then, Toni, Marco, Andre, Jerome, Mats, and Sami, are on Basti’s sde. I think everyone else is neutral.”

“Where is everyone then?”

“Well, I think the neutral people are either in the safe zone or they left the hotel, and then I don’t know… I didn’t pick a side, so they won’t tell me.”

“Safe zone?”

“Anywhere after that door to the elevator and beyond is safe.”

Manuel looked to where he pointed. It was Jogi’s door. A safe choice, he supposed, but they were playing with fire.

Matthias’ phone vibrated then. After checking it, relief spread over his face. Though still scared to face Manuel, he bravely asked, “Can I please go now, Manu? Erik just texted me where he was hiding!”

With a magnanimous wave of his hand, Manuel dismissed him, wondering what to do now.

Making a decision, he took Christoph’s hand to lead him down the hall. “Alright, Chris, we have to find Poldi and get him to apologize and make up with Basti if we want to get any sleep tonight.”

Shockingly, Christoph resisted and stood firmly where he was.

“Chris?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Why do we have to make Poldi apologize?”

“Because Poldi’s just overreacting again.”

“How do you know? Matzi said Mats said Per said Basti hurt _Poldi_. So, Basti’s the one who should apologize to Poldi like he should have in the first place.”

“Chris, you can’t be serious. Basti probably didn’t even do anything, and Poldi’s just being too sensitive.”

“That’s what you say, but you guys never think about our feelings,” Chris said sullenly, looking down.

“Chris…”

“I think I’m going to go find some of the guys from Poldi’s team. I hope I don’t have to see you tonight, Manu.”

“Christ—”

“You’ve picked wisely,” said Per suddenly, popping his head out from the door closest to them. He quickly pulled Christoph into their room. Glancing at Manuel, he shook his head and shut the door on him.

Manuel stood in disbelief, wondering how his night had changed. Christoph was just there, and they were going to hang out in his room and listen to more music—hopefully, on his bed. And now, he was in the middle of a war zone with Christoph on the dark side.

Manuel didn’t know where to start or how, but he was going to kill Thomas. Then, he was going to get Bastian and Lukas to kiss and make up and then kill them, too.

.

The commotion had started a half hour ago, but Jogi wasn’t concerned until he heard the commotion die down. The silences always concerned him when it came to his rambunctious children.

Jogi opened his door and found nothing as he saw it a few hours before. He wanted to step back into his room and let it sort itself out, but he heard a groan from beside his feet and knew he had to intervene.

A few doors down, he saw a couple more bodies and a plethora of pillows. It was definitely time to intervene.

Crouching down, he pulled the pillow off the figure’s face, revealing Mario.

“Explain yourself,” he commanded.

Visibly scared and with wide eyes, Mario immediately started stammering out an explanation, “Uh, Mom and Dad—we had to choose sides—then Thomas said something, I don’t know. They started attacking us first, and then Per said we couldn’t just take it. So we fought back. And then someone hit me in the back of the head, so I had to stay down. And then the pillow was covering my face, so I don’t know what else was going on.”

“Shut up, Mario, you big liar! You attacked us first!”

Jogi looked down the hall to see Marco sitting up, surrounded by a few more pillows.

“Don’t listen to him, Jogi. _Their_ side attacked _us_ first.”

“No we didn’t. You guys started it just like Basti did.”

“How? You _know_ Poldi’s just overreacting.”

“You guys always think we’re overreacting!”

“Because you are!”

“No we’re not. You guys are just big jerks who don’t know when to shut your big fat mouths.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve got man boobs.”

“Take that back.”

“No!”

“Fine. You’ve got stupid hair.”

Gasping, Marco threw a pillow at Mario.

Unfortunately, it ended up hitting Jogi who had been distracted, trying to keep his growing headache from overtaking him as he stood in quiet contemplation of the growing mess of a story he was building in his mind.

Realizing what they had done, Mario and Marco quickly made a pact and ran for it, darting past Jogi and down the stairs to anywhere else. Jogi watched them scurry away, disgruntled, but not feeling up to the task of chasing two hyperactive footballers. Not at this age and not at their age anyway.

“Fucking idiots!” He suddenly heard from behind him near where Marco was lying.

Jogi turned around just in time to see Toni trip over a small pile of pillows and flat on his face while Kevin ran into a wall in his haste. Clutching at his hair, Jogi walked down the hall. Knocking loudly on all the doors, he bellowed, “Bastian! Lukas! Out here now!”

From either side of him, two doors slowly opened, revealing both Bastian and Lukas, both armed to the teeth with pillows. Behind each of them, he could see a few more of his players in similar fighting stances.

“What is going on here?”

Bastian and Lukas exchanged glances, apparently still able to effectively communicate without words despite their current tiff.

Calmly, Bastian advised Jogi, “You should go back to your room, Jogi. It’s not safe out here.”

Lukas nodded, face grim.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “What is going on here? Why are you two fighting? And _why_ did you drag your teammates into this?”

“We didn’t drag them into anything. They’re fighting for what’s right!”

A chorus of agreement rang from both sides, and Jogi thought that maybe he should’ve joined Jurgen in the States.

“And what exactly are they fighting for?”

Mesut spoke up from inside Lukas’ room, “We’re fighting because they’re insensitive jerks and never apologize!”

Pushing his way to Bastian’s side, Sami shot back, “We’re fighting because we _always_ have to apologize just because they’re _too_ sensitive!”

A door opened, and a distinct voice cried out, “Are you going to let them think they’re right? Attack!”

More doors opened, and no one knew who threw the first pillow, but there was a flurry of everything soft and feathery, and Jogi was stuck in the middle of it. And since he was in the middle, he bore the brunt of the attacks.

“Stop it!” He tried. “Stop! Just stop!” Finally, he gave up trying to reason with them and forced his way to Lukas’ room to grab a struggling Lukas. Then he crossed to the other side to grab Bastian. Dragging the two squabbling players down the hall towards his room, he was about to just toss them in but thought better of it.

Walking back to Lukas’ room and through the flying fluffy projectiles, he found a room with just Thomas and threw him out while simultaneously tossing the two in.

Through the door, he barked at them, “Kiss and make up or do whatever you two do when we’re not looking _or_ everyone runs laps all of practice tomorrow.”

After that, it was fairly easy to corral the others and get them to settle down.

Jogi probably should keep an eye on Bastian and Lukas to make sure that they were reconciling properly, but he knew that all anyone had to do to get those two to make up was to force them together.

And, perhaps, he didn’t want to hear anything he shouldn’t have to as a coach to an all male football team.

He missed Jurgen.

.

“Well?” Lukas asked, crossing his arms.

“Well what?”

“Apologize.”

“Luki, you know I didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, taking a seat on the bed. He really should’ve just not said anything. Then, maybe they would’ve been cuddling instead of staging a pillow war.

“You hurt my feelings.”

“How?!”

“You didn’t believe me.”

“Because it’s not true!”

“See? You’re doing it again.”

Bastian held his arms out, gesturing for Lukas to come to him. “Luki, please.”

Lukas bit his lip, inching his way towards Bastian and stopping just out of arms’ reach. “You hurt my feelings,” he repeated.

He pulled him close, meeting him the rest of the way and sat him on his lap. Tugging at his crossed arms to uncross them, he took his wrists and placed them around his shoulders. With his arms wrapped around his waist, he moved them both fully onto the bed to rest against the headboard. The pillows were probably spent as ammo during their scuffles.

Kissing Lukas’ neck, he took a deep, calming breath. It wasn’t worth it.

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, Luki. I didn’t mean to. I was just saying—Forget it. It’s stupid. I’m sorry.”

Squirming, Lukas sighed and moved to return his kiss. “I know... I’m sorry I got mad…”

“Don’t be.”

Kissing him on his lips, he dropped his head to rest against Bastian’s chest

They laid there in silence, wrapped up in each other in every sense of the word.

Just as Bastian was about to nod off, Lukas propped himself up against his chest and sleepily asked, “So, you’ll tell them?”

Bastian wasn’t sure what he was agreeing to, but he was worn out and just wanted Lukas to either go to sleep, too, or keep him awake for something else that didn’t include much talking. “Yeah, I’ll tell them.”

Settling back in again, Lukas continued softly, “Thanks, Basti. It just makes more sense this way, you know? Taller people _always_ stand in the back for pictures. So, I stand in the back of you. It's obvious. Since I’m taller. Right?”

“I—,” he started but then shut his mouth so abruptly he bit the inside of his mouth. He wasn’t going to start this again. “Yes, dear. Absolutely.”

At least _he_ knew he was taller.

.

With Lukas' arms wrapped around him as he hugged him from behind, Bastian wondered why he even argued in the first place. If Lukas wanted to stand behind him, then he should let him, especially since that meant he got to be pampered with hugs and kisses as Lukas played with his hair.

"Alright, everyone. Get ready. Three... two... one... smile!"

Bastian relaxed after he was sure the picture was taken. Lukas chattered in his ear about where they should go eat as they dispersed.

"Hold on, guys! Sorry," said the photographer, checking the digital image again. "Bastian, can you stand behind or next to Lukas? The picture looks a little off since you're—"

Lukas arched his eyebrow, and Bastian felt his pulse race.

He knew what he was going to say, and he jumped down from the stands, tackling the photographer.

"Say it's fine, or I will destroy you," he said through clenched teeth.

"Never mind," the photographer called out nervously from under the midfielder. "Picture's fine. Great job, everyone."

.

Moving off the stands in shock after witnessing Bastian's display—albeit swift and graceful—, Jogi smacked himself in the face to keep from smacking his captain. He really missed Jurgen.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is just a mess. I’m a mess. (Damn it, y'all. Tell me when there are typos... but I guess that's a huge job...)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: AU. But liquor is quicker. I maintain that hot dads are the work of the devil. Bastian agrees. A story in which Lukas is a single dad and Bastian gets stuck handing out candy.

**Candy is Dandy**

.

Bastian dragged himself up from the couch. He lost the intense rock-paper-scissors battle with his roommate and was forced to stay at home to pass out candy wearing his old football kit while the rest of them got to go to a party. His only company was the Halloween ‘classics’ running all day long on his television. The current Halloween classic on TV was _It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown_ movie.

Grumbling, Bastian wondered whose snot nosed brat he was going to have the pleasure of helping achieve a sugar high tonight.

Grabbing the bowl, he plastered a smile on his face and opened the door.

That same plastic smile dropped in surprise moments later when he saw not a boy but a man, and his eyes traveled appreciatively from the bottom up.

The man on his front step was about six foot sex, blue eyes, and dressed to the nines in a dark suit, complete with fedora and scarf.

 _Goddamn,_ he thought, mouth drying. Bastian tried to close his mouth as inconspicuously as possible but noticed that the stranger thankfully wasn’t focused on him. Rather, he was looking down to his side. That was when Bastian noticed a miniature version of the stranger pressed against his legs, also dressed in the exact same outfit.

Pushing him gently forward, the man said to him, “Come on, Louis. What do you say?”

‘Louis’ took a small step forward. Holding out his plastic pumpkin basket, the boy shyly declared, “Trick or treat?”

Without much thought, Bastian took a handful of candy and dropped it into his basket, watching the man smile proudly at the boy and then at him. He was appropriately mesmerized. There was a compelling idea to congratulate him on his genes, but fortunately, Bastian fought back the desire.

“Wow! Thanks, mister.”

Following the declaration, Bastian soon discovered that the man and the little boy shared identical smiles as well, and he was met with twin beams of pure sunshine and happiness. Squinting, he offered a nervous twist of his lips in return, hoping he wasn’t embarrassing himself.

Turning around, the little boy pointed to his basket, exclaiming, “Look, daddy!—”

 _God fucking damn_ , he thought conclusively, groaning. Bastian didn’t exactly have a type, but the man was certainly making a hell of a good argument for hot dads to be it.

“Wow,” the hot dad agreed. “That’s a lot of candy.”

“I can’t wait to eat everything!”

“No. You remember the deal. You get to have some tonight, and we’ll see about the rest tomorrow.”

“But,” Louis said, lower lip quivering. “It’s Halloween… Mommy would let me.”

“Nice try, kiddo,” the father replied, pinching his son’s cheek and taking his hand to lead him presumably to the next house. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Bastian searched his mind for some excuse for them to stay so he could at least talk to the father for a little longer but came up with nothing.

Then, as if he knew what Bastian wanted and wanted to help, Louis told his father, “Mmm… I have to go pee now, daddy.” Swinging the hand that was held in his father’s hand and squirming, Louis repeated, “I have to go pee _now_.”

The stranger looked at Bastian helplessly. And, at that moment, with those eyes on him, Bastian would given his prized jersey signed by the 2006 Germany national football team if he asked. But, thankfully, he didn’t, and Bastian found the wherewithal to offer, “He can use my restroom if that’s okay.”

Immediately, Louis darted past him.

“Louis!” He cried out, distraught.

Bastian laughed to let him know that it was alright. He called out to Louis, “Down the hall. First door on the left.”

It was if the shyness never existed, and the boy cried out, “Got it!”

“Sorry about that,” the man apologized.

“It’s alright." Nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, Bastian suggested. "You wanna come inside?”

“Thanks. I’m Lukas.”

He took off his hat and held out his hand to shake, and Bastian wondered if it was odd that he was able to appreciate Lukas’ hands. It probably wasn’t normal at the very least.

“Bastian,” he replied finally when he realized Lukas was waiting for a response. He eventually dropped his hand as well and led him over to his living room where they could wait and sat down.

Lukas followed suit, taking a seat right next to him and started, “So, Basti—” Bastian’s heart skipped a beat at the familiarity as well as the proximity “—what are you dressed as?”

Embarrassed and frankly a little flustered, he answered, “This is actually my old football kit. I didn’t have much of a choice. It was a last minute thing… Sorry…”

“Don’t be,” he said, grinning. And, Bastian would have been fine—struggling to breathe but fine—if Lukas hadn’t continued on to say, “It looks good on you.”

He leaned back, and Bastian was ashamed to say that he leaned forward to keep their distance minimal. He continued leaning forward—and he was sure that Lukas had gotten the hint and leaned in as well—until something small and compact jumped in between them, landing half on Bastian and half on Lukas.

“Daddy! It’s Charlie Brown. Can we stay to watch Charlie Brown?”

Louis turned his puppy eyes and quivering lip onto both Lukas and Bastian, and while Lukas was able to withstand it, Bastian immediately caved.

“Stay,” he ended up telling Lukas. “Please.”

Hot dads were the work of the devil, Bastian swore. But, their equally adorable kids were even worse.

.

A week or so later, Lukas was finishing up a phone call to Bastian while Louis helped to set up breakfast. He was incredibly happy with how that night worked out, finding that there was more between them than the initial spark of physical attraction, such as a passionate love for the sport of football.

As soon as he hung up, Louis asked him, “Were you talking to the candy man from Halloween again?”

He paused. He wasn’t sure how much he should tell Louis about Bastian since he wasn’t sure how serious their relationship would progress. Though, he did have hopes that it would ‘progress’ for a long time. Apprehensively, he told him, “His name is Bastian and yes…”

Louis beamed up at his father, “Does that mean I was a good wingman, daddy?”

Lukas put down the phone and looked at his son. “Louis, where did you learn that word…?”

“Uncle Per taught it to me cause he said I needed to be your wingman so you’d finally get laid and stop acting like you had a stick up your butt. Why do you have a stick up your butt, daddy? And how do you get laid? Is it like when a chicken lays an egg? Did you lay an egg? Where’d it go? Can I have it? Are we eating it??”

Reaching for his phone again, Lukas pursed his lips, dialing his _friend_ , “First, you’re not talking to Uncle Per alone anymore. Second, I’ll tell you some other time. Also, no. No. Nowhere. No and no. You can start eating breakfast first. I’ll be right back.”

He started towards his room, thinking of the best swear words to use to demonstrate how incredibly furious he was with Per for teaching his son such things when his phone vibrated. It was Bastian.

_-Can’t wait to see you tonight._

_-Found the kit again, too. ;)_

Reading the messages, he sighed, turning around and walking back to the breakfast table in resignation. Per got lucky this time…

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Today’s match, just what the fuck.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So I was scrolling through tumblr and thinking about my ships in class as I tend to do, and this happened. Takes place the night of the premiere of Die Mannschaft when they all decide to act like girls at a sleepover.

**Out of the Wardrobe**

.

Damning the others and his own misfortune at having literally drawn the short stick, Mesut rapped lightly on Jogi’s door. When there was no response, he knocked harder.

Pausing with his ear against the door, he still heard nothing.

Bracing himself, he pounded loudly against the heavy wood with the heel of his palm in quick succession.

Finally, he heard some movement within the room and tensed. He stepped back as the door creaked open to reveal Jogi staring at him blearily. He’d laugh at the disheveled appearance of his usually polished coach if he didn’t dread the entire situation.

“Allow me to educate you, Mesut. When people don’t answer the door, that means they want you to go away. Now, go away.”

His eyes widened in alarm as he started to close the door. Unwilling to go through the process of working up the nerve to knock on his door another time, he blurted, “Basti and Poldi are in the closet!”

There was a long pause after his outburst, and he wondered if he should just give up.

However, the door stayed open, and eventually, Jogi rubbed his chin and blinked very slowly at him before closing his eyes and drawling in a tired voice, “Well, no shit. Would you like to tell me the color of the sky as well?” Clicking his tongue and shaking his head in disappointment, he continued, “I had thought you were more observant than that… Better late than never, I suppose.”

“What? No. That’s not what I meant. Why would you say that? They’re literally _stuck_ in a closet right now.”

“And, why exactly are they in there in the first place?”

“Well, we were spending the night together before everyone had to leave, and we ended up playing hide and seek in Basti’s room cause no one brought their PlayStation… and they hid… in there…,” he explained, faltering with each word. He knew they shouldn’t have let Erik pick the game. At least Jogi wasn’t mad at him for waking him up. Not much anyway. Hopefully. Clearing his throat, he tried again, “We were playing _this game_ , and when they were supposed to come out, they said they couldn’t cause the door was stuck. And that was an hour ago. We tried picking the lock but we couldn’t get it to work cause no one knew how and the doorknobs were weird… So, we thought you’d know what to do.”

Jogi took a fraction of a moment to consider the situation and quickly told him, “Leave them.”

“What? We can’t—”

“Did they tell you all to leave them?”

“Yes, but—”

“Leave them,” he reiterated.

“But, they’d be in there for who knows how long.”

“Just until you all leave, I’m sure.”

“I don’t understand?”

“Let me tell you something, Mesut, and you can tell those other idiots, too… Though, I have a feeling quite a few of them suspect already… These closets don’t lock from the inside. They just don’t. They don’t lock from _anywhere_. They don’t have locks, _period_. You couldn’t pick the lock because there wasn’t any to pick.”

“But that means…”

“Yes.”

“So they…”

“Yes.”

“So that means we’ve been…”

“Cockblocking them this entire time?” He suggested, finishing what he could not. “ _Yes_.”

“And that’s why you…

“Yes.”

“So we should…”

“That’s up to you. Personally, I wouldn’t.” He rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Those two little shits think they’re just _so_ discreet. Not that they were discreet to begin with, but they’re not even _trying_ now. God, what were they even thinking today?” Sighing, he cut his rant short with another roll of his eyes. He refused to get worked up about them yet another time. Considering the conversation done and the problem dealt with, he dismissed him. “Goodnight, Mesut. Try not to think about it too much. You’ll give yourself a headache when it comes to those two.”

Mesut stood alone in the doorway for a good minute before deciding to head back to the room to clear the others out—assuming they hadn’t left already—and give Bastian and Lukas _privacy_.

On his way back, he thought about all the times that the two had went off on their own or had disappeared from the group only to reappear hours later.

No wonder Philipp had been so insistent on their departure.

No wonder Per and Thomas were so against it.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I thought I had some disease because I was so sleepy lately for no reason (lack of sleep doesn’t count for me anymore… it’s a different tiredness), but nope. Just my uterus getting its revenge in early. Anyway, hope you liked it. Just a bit of crack because I can’t wait until someone upload the movie. Yes???? Pretty please. <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is set the night of Basti’s long awaited return!! ^^ Ugh. Finally!!! So, it’s a week late, but… life. Failed my tests, but everyone failed harder so… I’ll take it. For now, not really. Ugh. Fair warning. I don’t do text speak… Also. There is no point to this.
> 
> For junkiep/stuperbee! :3 Hope you like the crack.

**Messages from the General**

.

_From: Schweini ^^_

So… did you catch the game?

-

_From: Luki <3_

What game?

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

I told you… We had a game today… It was special. :( You didn’t remember?

-

_From: Luki <3_

Aha. Just kidding, Schweini. I wouldn’t miss your first game back. :D

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

:D

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

Did you see my assist?

-

_From: Luki <3_

Yeah. Pretty amazing for an old timer like you. Congratulations on the three points. ^^

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

Thanks! Sorry you didn’t get to play, Luki…

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

And I’m not old!!

-

_From: Luki <3_

Eh. Oli’s back, so I kinda expected it. At least he scored.

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

Oh… Frenchie scored? Didn’t even know le coq was back.

-

_From: Luki <3_

Why do you call him that? And, really? Thought I told you before. It’s his first game back, too, actually. The boss subbed him in pretty late, but he still scored anyway. ^^

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

Yeah, but did you see his hair? Not so beautiful now, right?

-

_From: Luki <3_

…

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

I’m just saying. It’s not.

-

_From: Luki <3_

Schweini, are you jealous? ;]

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

Why the hell would I be jealous?

-

_From: Luki <3_

Because you both came back today, but Oli scored today and you didn’t… ;]

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

That’s not why I’m jealous!

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

But I’m not jealous to begin with!!

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

I’m not.

-

_From: Luki <3_

So you wouldn’t care if I said your hair looked beautiful today, too? More than Oli’s ever been?

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

… You really think so?

-

_From: Luki <3_

It was nice and fluffy.

-

_From: Luki <3_

Like a bunny. ;]

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

:D Thanks!! I’m growing it out.

-

_From: Luki <3_

Whatever you do, just don’t bleach it. Again.

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

It was fashion.

-

_From: Luki <3_

Everything’s fashion with you.

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

I’m not the one with a clothing line.

-

_From: Luki <3_

Jealous? I could hook you up with a few things. I’m kind of a big deal there.

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

No thanks. I’ve still got the originals.

-

_From: Luki <3_

Aha. I _knew_ I didn’t lose my cap!!

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

Didn’t you? >:D

-

_From: Luki <3_

Don’t make me come over there and get it.

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

Is that supposed to be a threat?

-

_From: Luki <3_

That was my favorite one, Schweini!

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

What a coincidence. It’s my favorite, too.

-

_From: Luki <3_

You don’t even like wearing caps.

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

But I like wearing _your_ caps. :D

-

_From: Luki <3_

Fine. Damn it. Keep it for all I care. Get _hat hair_.

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

:O I will. Rude.

-

_From: Luki <3_

Speaking of. Kevin wanted to hang out with me next week, too. You’re cool with him tagging along right?

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

Why the fuck is fishie so thirsty for you…

-

_From: Luki <3_

What’s that mean? How can fish be thirsty?

-

_From: Schweini ^^_

Sorry. Autocorrect. Meant to type: Sure.

-

They continued messaging back and forth before finally saying goodnight. Rather, Lukas probably passed out because he hadn’t responded for the past half hour.

Before dozing off himself, he took out a notebook and scratched more tally marks onto the pages along with a new name. Nibbling on the end of his pen slightly, Bastian frowned. He had to figure out more ways to widen the difference.

> Schweini (his hase <3 ^^): 190867644
> 
> BFG (rival??): 27400
> 
> Frenchie: 31 _annoying rooster_
> 
> Fishie: 1 **keep an eye on him**

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m sleepy… Happy holidays to those celebrating this week. ^^


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Quick fic because it’s schw3inski’s birthday (Happy Birthday!!), and I’m trying to work on SotU before the shit hits the fan (academia wise) for me in the subsequent weeks. silly!Basti up ahead.

**You Always Check the Tags**

.

A/N: Seriously. Did you guys _SEE_ the shit poldi [posted](http://fromyouraveragegirl.tumblr.com/post/103827008684/weloveschweinski-oh-lukki-d-look-at-this)??

.

Bastian was very careful with his account, unlike _someone_. In memory of the incidents, he narrowly resisted smashing his head against the wall.

And, unlike that same someone, he cared that people were watching everything he did and would read into it regardless of how seemingly insignificant the action, which is why he couldn’t follow _anyone_ on instagram. Not even Lukas. No matter how many times Lukas pouted. No matter how much he wanted to… Just to casually keep up with the goings on in his life since they were so far apart now, he defended, even though no one really asked.

He just couldn’t do it. It would draw too much attention to their already unique relationship.

Consequently, that meant he had to constantly go to the pages that he did follow to check for updates.

And, with the creation of Lukas’ Strassenkicker account, that brought the number of accounts Bastian would have followed if he could up to two. However, this would be excluding the various Lukas Podolski fan pages that he liked because Bastian didn’t think those counted since it was still technically Lukas in a way anyway. But again, no one asked.

As he got out of bed this particular morning, Bastian went through his ritual of getting up, getting ready, and getting on instagram to check for updates from Lukas and about Lukas.

Scrolling through the Strassenkicker page, he spotted a picture of himself.

Fighting the urge to run around his living room and squeal in the most unmanly of ways, Bastian instead gripped his phone tightly and clicked on the photo to zoom in and see more details.

His practiced eyes went immediately to the caption and widened impossibly at the sight of the tags section.

Never mind that there was a ‘friends’ tag before it.

He had tagged his picture—a picture of _him_ —with the word ‘ _love_.’ Not only that, he tagged it with ‘comeback’ right after. What was that supposed to mean??

Did Lukas need him? Did he want to come back to Germany? Bastian was having a meltdown, already thinking of all the ways he could either go to London immediately or kidnap Lukas and bring him back home. Surely, Pep could adopt him for a little while until they could find another team that would want him permanently? That is, unless he wanted to stay at Bayern with Bastian because that'd be fine with Bastian too, he supposed. 

He slammed his hands against the table top in excitement and laughed giddily while still clutching his phone.

Before leaving for practice, he darted back to his room to grab something very important off its reserved place at the very top and most special part of his book case filled with all of his deeply treasured items.

.

Proudly donning his Aha! beanie at practice, Bastian loudly complained about the cold and how he had to resort to wearing Lukas’ beanie, which was the only one he could find that was warm enough, but wasn’t it cool how he had gotten one before anyone else because Lukas had _especially_ given it to him and only him to wear because they were just _so_ close?

But again, no one asked.

.

“The fuck is Basti talking about now? _Thomas_ just told me that he was talking too much even for him.”

“I don’t know. Something about how in love he is with Poldi. What else is new?”

“Oh. Who the fuck got him started this time?”

“No one. No one said anything. No one even asked. No one _ever_ asks when it comes to him and his Poldi obsession.”

“Oh. Goddamn, Basti.”

“Yeah.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This ship could sail in the night with no one watching, and it’d still survive.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Occasionally, I am depressing. I just wanted to get this out for one anon who was losing faith in the ship. Talk to me, anon. I will make everything right again. One day, I will revisit this idea. But that will be a day when I’m not facing practicals, exams, assignments, rotations, and other stories that need to be finished. It’s two days before Lukas’ wedding.

**The Ringing in the Distance**

.

It was never about him.

He didn’t want it. He didn’t think they needed it.

They were already married in a civil union, and he said as much, but Monika sent out the invitations in late April anyway.

His fate was sealed into little cream squares in slightly larger cream envelopes with his name and hers prominently displayed. Linked with an ampersand on paper.

Next to their name was a date. It was a date that came every year, but this year, he was supposed to believe it was more important than the others. That in the subsequent years, it was now different from the others. He was expected to observe and respect it.

Monika said the little squares had gone to all of their friends and family. He didn’t see exactly whom they were sent to.

Her parents and his had it all planned out since Monika found out she was pregnant, he thought. The seating arrangements, the decorations, the songs, everything. All he had to do was show up.

All he had to do was go along like he went along with everything else.

And therein laid the problem.

Bastian set a mug of something on the table in front of him, and his personal space shrunk to accommodate him.

Traitorously, his heart spasmed wildly as he took from him what was offered. He allowed his hands to stray before meeting his eyes, and he flinched.

Bastian’s fingers slipped through his quickly and abruptly as he finally and completely took the cup. He felt only the hard ceramic of the cup, a cool reminder of Bastian’s smooth skin.

“You’re supposed to be in Poland by now.”

Both of them were surprised to hear those words coming from his mouth. He wore the hypocrisy around his neck.

“I never said I was going.”

“You’re _supposed_ to.”

“I told you, Luki. I can’t,” his voice broke, and Lukas’ resolve followed.

He only meant to go to Bastian to get him… to get him to do what? Go to his wedding? There was a break in his logic. But, his motto of deny, deny, deny helped bridge the gap, and he crossed the short distance between them, taking Bastian’s wracking frame in his arms.

This was his fault, he reminded himself, warning himself not to get too close. That it was wrong, wrong, wrong. It wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry, Schweini.”

His response was muffled against his chest.

“Schweini?”

Lukas was pushed back forcefully, forced to confront the personification of betrayal and heartbreak.

“I said you’re not allowed to call me ‘Schweini’ anymore!”

His words echoed around the room, bouncing around in his head.

But, contradicting his words was his entire body. Curled up into himself, it screamed at Lukas, screamed at him to not just stand there. He was supposed to save him, but he was no one’s savior now. He hadn’t been in a long time.

“You know I’m not ‘Schweini’ anymore. I told you.”

“I’m sorry, Basti…,” he apologized, approaching him slower than before but with the same intent to soothe and comfort. “I’m sorry.” He repeated his apologies again and again into his hair, through his kisses, through their skin.

From his bed, Bastian begged, “Don’t go.”

It wasn’t the first time Lukas had heard it, but he had responsibilities, duties, expectations to fulfill and so did Bastian. Not going didn’t simply mean missing practice or having to book a later flight anymore. Not going meant that he would be letting countless people down even though he only ever wanted to hold up one.

His eyes were rimmed with red. As red as his swollen lips.

“I’ll be back, Schweini.”

There would be no goodbyes exchanged between them. They didn’t want to add to their list of lies.

Lukas kissed him before he turned to leave him, and it would not be for the last time.

.

Lukas was a selfish, selfish man, but for Bastian, his warm hands crafted promises of tomorrow to forget the dreaded day.

.

Lukas was a selfish, selfish man, and for Monika, it would always be about _him_.

The two stood at the topmost steps of the church in front of God and everyone they knew. And from where she stood, she knew that although her husband was looking at her, he was seeing someone else.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you guy were okay with the more fluid/shifting within the narratives. Also, not the best story, but my point still stands. It’s real, alright? Just trust me on this. Just because it hurts doesn’t mean it’s any less beautiful. … And now that I reread it, I’m just… did I just turn you off the ship even worse? :(


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Basti and Poldi attend a holiday function for Poldi’s charity foundation. Based on this prompt. “Imagine your OTP wearing dumb, ugly Christmas sweaters. Bonus if they match. Even bigger bonus if person A or B was the one to make the sweaters and the other grudgingly wears it to not hurt their feelings.” I was going to write something different, but that would’ve been way too long, and I do not have time for that. D:

**Christmas Sweater Weather**

.

_Wear this when I see you? ;)_

Bastian held the letter up in one hand and stared at the open box in his other, fighting back the redness creeping up from his collar.

.

Sighing heavily, Bastian entered the banquet hall alone, and he focused solely on finding his seat, avoiding all eye contact. Lukas had told him that he had to help set up and wouldn’t have time to visit before the speeches started, so he planned to arrive just before then.

His table was almost full with just two seats open. One was his, and the other was presumably Lukas’. Someone Bastian vaguely familiar was making a speech, which meant Lukas was somewhere else.

He greeted the table perfunctorily, recognizing more than a few famous faces that had come out to support Lukas’ foundation as well.

“You’re not wearing it,” a deep voice said suddenly from behind his seat.

He recognized the voice instantly, its deep melody evoking memories of more private moments.

Lukas took the seat next to him, waiting expectantly for an explanation.

Whispering, he said in a low voice, “I left it in my car. I didn’t think you meant you wanted me to wear it in _public_.”

“Of course that’s what I meant. What else could ‘Wear this when I see you’ mean?”

Bastian hissed, “A _lot_ of things. And, that reminds me. You need to stop using a winking face for everything. It’s misleading.”

Wide eyed and incredulous, he asked, “ _How_?”

“It just is, okay?”

“Fine, but now that you know. Let’s go get it so you can put it on,” he said easily, already pulling at him.

“What? No.”

He held his hand and asked pleadingly, “Come on, for me?”

“No.”

“I’ll go to your car and get it for you then.”

“No, Luki. Not in front of _other people_.”

“Why not?” He pouted.

Bastian averted his gaze quickly. There was no way he’d fall into that trap. “Are you serious? I can’t be seen with that thing on. I’ll wear it for you later. Only you.”

“…Oh, you didn’t like it?”

“It was embarrassing, Luki… Everyone would’ve laughed at me…”

Lukas furrowed his eyebrows at him. “Not me. Pretty please? It’s only for a little while.”

Speaking cautiously, he tried to explain, “That’s because you’d be too nice to say anything bad. But, I just can’t. There’s too many people and too many pictures. I’d be a laughingstock.”

“I thought you’d like it…”

“Did you even look at it? It looked dumb even in the box.”

“Probably because it was hand made…”

Bastian bit the inside of his cheek, realization dawning on him, and he regretted his words instantly. He finally dared to take a peek at Lukas' face, and he didn't like what he saw.

“Oh. I’m—I—I was kidding, Luki. I’ll go get it now.”

Lukas' eyes brightened, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He started to get up as another voice boomed from behind, startling them both.

“Poldi!” Poking his head between them and interrupting their private conversation, Per intoned, “Leave Basti alone. Don’t make him do something he doesn’t want to. You _know_ you’re not allowed to.”

Bastian was puzzled by the pointed look that Per sent Lukas, but he did know that the resignation on Lukas' face meant that he would _not_ be able to redeem himself tonight. Shit. The image of Lukas being disappointed in him was still burned into his corneas. 

Sighing, Lukas conceded, “Fine. Forget it, Basti. It's alright. There's no use anymore anyway.”

Per chuckled as Bastian swore to himself, panicking. He was so close to making it right again. It would've been an easy fix it. Damn it, Per. "Are you sure? I mean, it's fine. I _want_ to wear it."

"No, Basti," he chuckled, joining Per. "Let's just have some fun, yeah?"

Lukas acted unaffected for the rest of the night, but Bastian knew he had to be hurt. He offered again and again to get the sweater, but each time Lukas refused, saying that it didn't matter anymore and insisting that he stay and dance with him instead. He obliged with Lukas' wishes, but in the back of his mind, he promised that he'd make it up to him.

.

“Oh, shit,” Lukas muttered from in front of his television. The game against Mainz was on, and the camera had just panned to Bastian for his post-match interview.

> “You’re dressed quite… festively. Any reason why you made such an… interesting choice in... sweaters?”
> 
> Bastian colored to the tip of his ears and resisted tearing off the sweater, reminding himself that Lukas had hand-made this especially for him. He hoped he appreciated the gesture.
> 
> “ _Yes_ ,” he said, allowing a soft smile to reach his face. “A very special friend made it for me. It’s cute, though, isn’t it?”

“I can’t believe he wore it. Can I—can I tell him? Please let me tell him.”

“ _No_. He can never know. Okay, Per? He can’t. _Promise_ me.”

Tears streamed down Per’s face, keeping him from responding.

“Damn it, Per.”

Per fell off the couch laughing.

“Whatever. This just means I won the bet.”

Per hit the floor with his fists, gasping for breath and begging for mercy. "It's fashun," he squeaked out, guffawing.

Lukas sat in deep contemplation as he tried to think of anything he could blackmail Per with in order to keep him quiet.

As far as Bastian was concerned, Lukas made that sweater. End of story. Tomorrow, he’d have Per help him call all the stores and buy them out.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Better late than never? See you guys after finals.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is for ninitle, who requested domestic fluff with Louis. ^^ I hope you like it. It’s to make me and whoever enjoys it feel better after the disappointment this morning. This is nonsensical innuendo-laced fluff. If you have a problem with that, how the heck did you make it this far into this ‘story’….? I’m impressed.

**Page 713**

.

“I told you to stretch first.”

Lukas hid his blush behind a scowl, snatching the ice pack from Bastian’s outstretched hand.

“Don’t be like that,” Bastian said. His voice was as smooth as the silk scarves they employed whenever they felt more than frisky. Walking closer, he leaned over the bed to drop a delicate kiss on the tip of his nose.

He grumbled sulkily in response but allowed Bastian to continue doting on him.

“It wasn’t a _bad_ idea. I thought we were doing pretty good… Until you… pulled your groin,” he finished, halfheartedly stifling his laughter.

Indignant, Lukas weakly swung at Bastian, who easily ducked and fluffed his pillows for him dramatically, finally sitting down beside him. Almost mischievously, he took the ice pack once more in one hand and sidled up closer to him. Feeling alongside his thigh with his other hand, he inched upwards closer and closer to—

“Damn it, Basti. Stop!” He commanded, breathing heavily. He hands flew to stop Bastian’s, who had already obediently stilled at his words. “It _hurts_.”

With a faux pout, he asked, “Hmm? Stop what, my little śliwka w czekoladzie?”

“Did you just call me a chocolate coated plum?”

“Is there a problem, my sweet babka wielkanocna?”

“Has my mother been slipping you recipes ag— _God_ ,” he moaned, breaking off in borderline painful arousal. Bastian’s fingers had danced across his skin before he laid them flat. His thumb traced small circles into Lukas’ inner thigh, skimming the edges of his boxers.

Lukas immediately pried his hand completely off, and instead of letting it go, held it at a respectable distance away from his problem area. Through clenched teeth, he told him, “ _Stop it_.”

Placing his lips against Lukas’ ear, he whispered slyly, “Are you sure, budyń? You were getting pretty, uh, worked up before… But, I guess _this_ should teach you not to start without me, my impatient galaretka…”

“Yes, I’m _sure_.” Lukas struggled to keep Bastian’s sinful hand steady. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping me? This isn’t helping me.”

“I _am_ helping you. Look. I got you ice.” Bastian raised his free hand, showing him the unused ice pack for emphasis.

“Yeah, I’m really appreciating it from all the way over there. Look how well it’s icing your hand… _instead of my fucking dick_.”

“Now, now, my Polish-made mazurek. That particular charming and adorable part of you is more than fine. It’s the muscle around your dick that needs the help.”

“I’ll strangle you.”

“ _That’s_ definitely something we haven’t tried before. You’re so creative when you’re trying to seduce me.”

“I’m not trying to do anything to you!”

“Then why am I so turned on right now?” He challenged.

“Because you’re still a prepubescent idiot?!”

“There’s no need for name calling, my cream filled kukułki.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” he countered in frustration. “Kukułki is usually filled with an alcoholic liqueur.”

“But… you aren’t,” he said into his ear, nipping at it playfully. Bastian watched as Lukas slowly reddened all the way to the tips of his ears, comprehension dawning on him.

“ _Asshole_.”

“Mhmm,” Bastian agreed. Finally, after making sure that Lukas learned his lesson for not listening to Bastian, he gently placed the ice pack against his groin, giving Lukas a fond pat there before withdrawing his hand completely. “But I’m your asshole.”

He scoffed, moving closer to Bastian for comfort.

In response, Bastian put his arm around him and pulled the downy blanket over them both. “Get better soon, my rounded little sękacz,” he sighed, tickling the soft skin below Lukas’ navel.

“Basti… I told you. Hurts,” he whined.

Bastian quirked his eyebrow at Lukas, who stubbornly refused to meet his gaze. “… Who’s the prepubescent idiot now?”

“Shut up, you Bavarian cream pączek.”

“Aww, I knew you’d like it eventually, my sticky sezamki.”

.

The two adults squabbled over appropriate pet names to call each other until night fell, and they heard Louis come through the front door. To spare Lukas the embarrassment and to pamper Lukas for as long as he’d let him, Bastian had sent one of the eager to please newbies on the team to pick him up.

“I picked him up like you told me to, Kapitan Schweinsteiger. Did I do good?”

Lukas snorted at the title.

Bastian, on the other hand, smirked at him. “You’re welcome to call me that any time, by the way.” Raising his voice to project outside the bedroom, Bastian shouted, “Thanks! You can leave now.”

“It was my honor! Really. Feel free to call me whenever you need to, Kapitan. For anything!”

“Got it. Thanks!”

“It’s a pleasure more than anything. Like, if you ever want to go out for drinks maybe, I’d be open—”

“You can go now!” Lukas shouted, gritting his teeth at the audacity of their junior teammate.

“Yes, sirs! I didn’t mean—”

“Just get out of _our_ house!”

They could practically hear him run out of their house with his tail tucked between his legs. Only then did Lukas relax.

Tickling him again, Bastian kissed away his jealousy, breaking apart only when Louis had scrambled onto the bed with them.

Louis joyfully squealed, “Uncle Basti! Daddy! How was practice? Did you try out that book you were talking about, Daddy?”

Lukas yelped in pain as Louis climbed over Bastian to sit in his lap. Almost instantly, Bastian lifted up a confused Louis at the sound, pulling him back.

“What’s wrong with Daddy?” He whimpered, turning his glassy eyes on Bastian. His lower lip trembled. He feared he’d done something unforgivable.

Bastian cradled him and gave him a tight, reassuring hug before tucking him under the blankets in between the two of them. “Well, today your Daddy and I tried a page from that book. And he pulled his groin muscle because he was being a dummy and didn’t stretch before a workout. Let that be a lesson to you, my mini mazurek.”

“You’re silly, Uncle Basti!” He giggled as Bastian tickled away his worries. Like father, like son.

As he exhausted the littlest Podolski, he covered his ears and turned to the bigger Podolski, whispering, “Maybe next time we can try a page from the _other_ book?”

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I don’t even know if I’m using those desserts properly. But, let them eat cake. How pissed would you guys be if I started another fic in the middle of SotU?


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lukas finally got Bastian to apologize for the months of radio silence. Kind of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that head fondling in the tunnel (of love) at halftime during the friendly against Australia. Yeah, I’m fic’ing it. I’m so sorry these two have me as a fan. But, I’m not going to stop, so I hope you guys enjoy it. Probs more than they ever will anyway. ^^

**The Most Pitiful Man in the World**

.

**150327 2100**

_aka. match day_

Noticing and not liking the distance between them, Lukas reached out to pull Bastian closer to him. Unfortunately, Bastian didn’t hesitate to jerk his head away in a manner that was unbefitting of a captain. He had been predictably petulant all day, and Lukas knew Bastian blamed him for his sour mood.

Sidling up beside him anyway and stifling a smile, Lukas murmured low, “Don’t be that way, Schweini.”

“Shut up. I’m still mad at you,” he replied gruffly. He tugged his beanie down to hide the red on his cheeks, but Lukas saw anyway.

Sweetly, Lukas’ hand traveled from around his shoulder to his waist, massaging the small of his back. Bastian seemed to relent under his ministrations, and he leaned in to his touch with a small huff of halfhearted protest.

“Demon,” he accused.

“Demon. Devil. Satan. Lucifer. So formal. I told you last night,” he grinned slyly. “Call me Lukas.”

.

**150327 2131**

Thomas nudged him, his canines showing through his wide smile. Blowing out puffs of cool air, he puckered his lips and made kissing noises, asking, “You’re not going to go congratulate your boyfriend?”

“No,” Bastian grunted, sitting lower in his seat. It hurt, and that was all he could do to avoid suspicion. He cursed himself for wanting to do it again in all honesty. Above all, he cursed _Lukas_.

Sighing, he shifted in his seat. He wanted to be the first to run up to Lukas and pull him into a proud hug to show everyone that he believed in him when it seemed like no one else did, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t because that fucker decided he needed to be taught a lesson even though _he_ was only listening to him and following orders and not making it obvious.

“I got it. Later then,” Thomas concluded. He clapped Bastian on his shoulder before racing up to the sidelines, doing a cheer, and hugging everyone in the vicinity.

“Ye—Wait. Not like that.”

Thomas winked back at him the only way Thomas could, badly.

He crossed his arms and slunk lower in his seat.

.

**150326 2134**

_aka. the night before_

Head against the pillow, Bastian complained, “My ass is fucking sore. Luki, you fucker.”

“Oh yeah? Who was it who was just saying a minute ago ‘ _oh, Luki, Luki, don’t stop’_?”

He scowled. “That’s not what I sound like.”

“My bad. Let me try again.”

Without warning, Lukas covered his body with his own and snaked his arm around to in between his legs.

“Oh, _fuck_.”

“Guess you’re right, Schweini. Completely different.”

“Fuck you.”

“Ready for round two so soon?”

Bastian screamed into the pillow, letting out his frustration at his own lack of self restraint.

“It’s fine,” he tried, speaking softly into Bastian’s neck. “Jogi said you aren’t playing tomorrow anyway.”

“What about practice? I'm captain, Luki.”

Lukas dismissed his concerns with a wave of his hand; he was already focused on more pressing matters. His other hand was already gripping at his hip to hold him steady.

“What about _sitting down_?” He hissed. 

“I guess next time,” Lukas began when he was certain Bastian was relaxed. “You’ll fucking remember to call.” Swiftly, he unapologetically bit down on Bastian’s ear and thrust into him.

Bastian cried out in pain and pleasure, the pleasure winning out as Lukas rocked slowly against him, letting the pleasant pressure build again. He breathed through clenched teeth, forgoing his anger in lieu of achieving release.

“Oh, God,” he grunted out.

“Call me Luki.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could totally be part of SotU. And if I’m lazy enough, it just might be. Aww yeah. Mediocrity.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Idea from Community’s felt puppet episode. Though, no songs. Sorry. Also. I may have lost the plot.

**Puppet Therapy**

.

“I get mad when other people touch your hair.”

“I get sad when you let other men kiss you.”

“I get worried when you don’t reply to my tweets.”

“I don’t like it when you go to the beach without me.”

“I get angry when you transfer without telling me.”

“I feel stupid when _you_ transfer without telling me.”

“I don’t like it when you leave me out of your books.”

“I feel lonely when you take selfies with other people.”

The dark eyebrows pointed down toward the middle in impossible consternation. “I feel shitty when you look at other people. Aha.”

“I feel sad when you spend time with _your_ friends instead of me.” Hair flip.

“Aha.”

Hair flip.

Then finally, Thomas pulled the Lukas puppet and the Bastian puppet off his hands and tucked them neatly and carefully into his windbreaker. In his own voice now, Thomas addressed his two senior teammates, who were still openly gaping at him. “See how ridiculous? That’s you two right now. Now get a room and make up already. I don’t like it when my parents fight the day before a match. It’s bad luck.”

After his stunning display, Thomas had the gall to casually walk out of the exercise room without a glance back

Jogi simply demanded, “My God, _who_ gave him back those puppets?!”

.

Thomas smiled as he slipped back into his room, good deed done for the day. Now, it was time for his own little bit of fun.

Whipping his puppet friends out and quickly putting them over his hands, Thomas lowered his voice and said, “Thank you _so_ much, Tommy, for fixing our stupid relationship. You’re _such_ a good boy. Mwah mwah mwah. Aha.”

In a slightly softer voice, he responded, “Yes, Tommy. We wish we could adopt you and buy you all the ponies you want. Mwaaah. You’re the best.”

“The _best_.”

“Aww, guys,” Thomas chuckled to himself. “You two are the best. I couldn’t find better—”

“Knock it off, Thomas!” Manuel growled, throwing a pillow in his general direction. Manuel always said it was always too early or too late to deal with Thomas when he got like this.

Taking his chances anyway, Thomas whispered, “You’re the best,” and the three of them nodded to one another before Thomas eventually put the two away and pulled out an unfinished puppet with duck lips.

Again, he chuckled to himself.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ay. Go find me on tumblr again. I’m lonely. Anywho, happy birthday lukass! ;)


End file.
